Fully Committed

by Janie Crouch

  Jon’s gut was telling him it was someone with firsthand information who had done this.

  If so, this case had just taken a whole new step into more complicated.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jon observed the forensic team for a while longer and then left it in Zane’s hands. There was nothing more he could do there and he needed to get Sherry to a safe place.

  He was relieved to find her still sitting inside his car with the two patrol officers right where he’d asked them to stay. He released them to other duties and got in next to Sherry.

  “Hey, how are you hanging in there?” He kept his tone as soft and even as possible.

  She was staring down at the bottle of water and crumpled paper towels in her hand. “I couldn’t get all the blood off,” she whispered.

  She turned her palm around to show him. Jon took her hand in his, which was icy to the touch, and stroked it softly. He knew partially congealed blood could be a beast to remove. “Let’s get you to my place so you can take a shower. It will come off, I promise.”

  She just nodded, still looking down at her hand.

  She didn’t say anything the entire drive to his condo, which was relatively near the station. He didn’t try to talk. What could he said anyway?

  He didn’t even want to think about what this blow to her psyche meant for the investigation overall. Looking over at her colorless face, he couldn’t imagine asking her to just buck up and interview another woman tomorrow.

  So although they had narrowed the suspect pool to someone who knew Sherry was working with them, they still didn’t really have any suspects whatsoever. And had probably lost Sherry, the person who had been in the best position to help them.

  He pulled the car into a spot in the underground parking of the condo unit and went around to help Sherry out. He wished he could’ve brought some of her clothes, but he knew they were all part of the crime-scene investigation at her house. Maybe tomorrow, if the scene was cleared, he could run by and grab her something. Tonight she’d just have to sleep in one of his shirts.

  Once up the elevator and inside his unit on the sixth floor, he took her straight into the bathroom. No point in showing her around; the two-bedroom place wasn’t very big, and she was in no shape to process anything.

  She was still staring down at her red fingertips and palm. There really wasn’t a lot of blood still on them, but the color was odd, as if she’d colored them with a red marker.

  “Do you want to take a shower or a bath?”

  She looked at him as if she didn’t quite understand the question.

  “How about a shower?” he continued. It would be better to let all the water ease down the drain.

  He helped her out of her shoes and clothes, laying them over the edge of the tub, then turned the water on, almost as hot as he could stand.

  Was it really only twelve hours ago when he and Sherry had been laughing in the shower together? Now he led her stiff body into the opening, lovemaking the furthest thing from his mind.

  He stayed right there with her for those first few minutes, to make sure she was okay. Slowly he could see awareness come back into her eyes as she stood under the heated spray. She looked over at him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, then closed her eyes, turning and lifting her face to the spray.

  Jon stepped back and closed the shower door. At least she was reacting, rather than standing there just looking so numb.

  He went into the kitchen and heated up a can of soup and made some sandwiches. Neither of them had eaten, and although he didn’t think she would feel like it, he still wanted to make sure she had the option.

  He went into his bedroom and grabbed a T-shirt. It would be more than large enough for her to sleep in.

  The shower was still running when he stepped back into the bathroom.

  “You doing okay in there?” he asked. “Finally thawed out?”

  When she didn’t answer, he opened the shower stall door. “Sherry?”

  She was scrubbing at her hand with the washcloth. He reached in to stop her, but she snatched her hands away, turning her back to him.

  “Sherry, listen to me. The blood is gone, sweetie. I promise.”

  “My hand is still red.”

  “Your hand is red now from the hot water and from rubbing it so hard.” He put both hands on her shoulders and turned her around gently. “There’s no more blood.”

  He was getting wet from the shower spray ricocheting off her and the walls, but he didn’t care. He reached down and took the washcloth from her. This time she didn’t fight him.

  “Let’s get you out of there.” He turned off the water and guided her from the shower. He wrapped her in a towel.

  “You got wet, too,” she whispered then touched him on the chest where he was most wet.

  “That’s okay. It’s basically how I do laundry anyway.”

  A ghost of a smile. That was good. At least she was now focused on what was going on rather than nonexistent blood on her fingers. He gave her his shirt and helped her slip it over her head.

  “How about if you get a little something to eat? Then we can see how you’re feeling.”

  “I don’t know if I can eat much, but I’ll try.”

  She managed to get down half a sandwich and half of the glass of wine he put in front of her. He finished everything she didn’t eat.

  She had one leg bent and her knee propped up under his T-shirt, sitting across from him at the small kitchen table. She wrapped her arms around her knee and laid her head down.

  “Do you want to watch some TV?” he asked. “Get on the computer?”

  He hoped she wouldn’t want to do either, because news of the break-in at her house might already be leaking onto the local news. Not to mention the mayor had given his update around 7:00 p.m., which was sure to be repeating now on the 10:00 p.m. news. Jon would like to know how the mayor did, but that could wait until tomorrow.

  “No, not really. I think I just want to go to sleep, if that’s okay?”

  He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear from where her head was resting on her knee. “That’s more than okay. It’s probably the best thing for you right now.”

  She nodded and he helped her up, slowing as he led her out of the kitchen. Should he put her in his bed? He wasn’t even sure if she would want him in the bed with her. She might just want and need her space.

  He would put her there anyway. If she said anything, he would understand and would sleep on the sofa bed in the second bedroom.

  “Is this okay?” he asked as he led her to the king-size bed in the middle of the room.

  She turned from the bed to look at him. “Is this where you’ll be sleeping, too?”

  “If that’s all right with you?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to be anywhere by myself tonight.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in to his chest. “You definitely don’t need to be alone tonight or any time in the foreseeable future, until you feel like you’re ready.”

  “Thank you for helping me,” she whispered into his chest. “I’m sorry I never seem able to handle anything.”

  “Hey, what happened at your house would spook anyone, even more so someone like you who’s already suffering from post-traumatic stress. So no more nonsense about not being able to handle anything.”

  She smiled, but she didn’t believe him, he knew. He helped her get into bed and climbed in next to her, pulling her close.

  “I know you probably have things to do. I’m okay.”

  He needed to make a couple of phone calls, check the progress of the crime-scene investigation and report what had happened to Omega Sector. And he would, in just a minute.

  Right now
he held her against him.

  It didn’t take long, much shorter than he would’ve thought, for her to fall asleep. He shouldn’t have been surprised. She had been up most of the night last night, but for very different reasons. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

  He eased her from beside him and stretched her on a pillow, then walked around the bed and covered her with the comforter. She never even stirred.

  In the kitchen he made the call to Zane Wales first.

  “Hey, Hatton. Is Sherry doing okay?” Zane asked after the first ring.

  “Yeah, she’s sleeping. How did it go at her house?”

  “Pretty routine. Lab took everything they needed, including her entire mattress.”

  That was fine, she would never have been able to get the blood out of that anyway. He couldn’t even imagine the emotional chaos that would cause her, given how long she had scrubbed her hand.

  “Did they find anything of interest anywhere else in her house?”

  “No, it looks like all the attention was concentrated on the bed. Symbolism, I guess. They’re running any prints they can find in the house, especially in the master bed and bath. They eliminated Sherry’s, of course.”

  Jon rubbed his forehead. “Mine are going to be there, too. We should probably prepare the lab for that.”

  “Did you touch something when you initially went into the room?”

  Jon could hear the surprise in the younger man’s voice. Rightfully so. Disturbing a crime scene when there was no imminent danger would be a pretty rookie move. “No.”

  “Then why would your prints be—? Oh.”

  Jon could almost hear the pieces clicking into place for Wales.

  “Is there any particular place I should warn the lab about?”

  “Living room. Bedroom. Bathroom.” Jon was pretty sure he hadn’t touched anything in the kitchen, but wasn’t completely certain. “Hell, the whole damn house.”

  “Got it.” The young detective was wise enough not to crack any jokes.

  “What did they find out about the blood?”

  “Definitely human. Good news and bad news there,” Zane said. “Good news is a local blood bank truck was broken into sometime today. A few pints of blood were taken. They didn’t even notice it was missing until this afternoon.”

  “So hopefully there’s no dead body waiting around for us to find.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. It would certainly be easier to pour blood from donated bags than to collect it from a victim into something and then pour it on the bed.”

  “All right, thanks for keeping me posted. When do you think they’ll clear Sherry’s house? I’m not letting her out of my sight until we catch this guy, but she could use some of her stuff.”

  “I’m sure we can probably get in there tomorrow.”

  She’d just have to stay in his T-shirt until then, which didn’t bother Jon a bit, although he wished it was under different circumstances. He said goodbye to Zane, promising to check in tomorrow, although explaining he would not be there in the morning. Making sure Sherry was all right was his top priority. Then he placed a call to Omega.

  It was nearly ten in the evening, so the call was forwarded from the office to Steve Drackett’s cell phone.

  “I saw the Corpus Christi mayor on the news tonight. He did great. You must have done some coaching with him,” Steve said by way of greeting.

  “I did. He’s pretty levelheaded, willing to listen. Wants to keep the city from becoming any more panicked than it already is.”

  “What did you think of his speech?”

  “I haven’t seen it yet.”

  “Really?”

  “We had a situation here, Steve.” Jon explained what had happened at Sherry’s house. “Looks like the blood may have been stolen from a local blood bank and isn’t from an actual body. So that’s a relief at least.”

  Steve finished Jon’s thought for him. “But Sherry is a target.”

  “Well, I don’t plan to let her out of my sight, so he’ll have to come through me if he’s going to get to her.”

  “It also sounds like this guy is a little nervous about her involvement,” Steve said.

  “After seeing her work today, he ought to be. I still don’t think any of the victims saw his face, but the way Sherry is able to walk them through the events? She’s good, Steve.”

  “Maybe I need to look into bringing her on full-time at Omega.”

  That appealed to Jon on so many different levels it scared him. So he just grunted in noncommittal agreement.

  He heard a noise from the bedroom. “I’ve got to go. I’ll update you tomorrow if anything new happens.”

  “Okay. Be careful, Jon. Don’t stretch yourself too thin. That’s how mistakes happen.”

  Jon said goodbye, turned out all the lights and double-checked the locks on the front door. He looked in on Sherry, who was shifting restlessly but was still asleep.

  After a quick shower, he slipped into a pair of gym shorts. He normally wouldn’t wear anything to bed, but he didn’t want to panic Sherry in any way if she woke in the middle of the night. Didn’t want to trigger anything that might scare her more.

  He got into bed and pulled her next to him, relieved when she sank closer to him rather than pulling away. He tucked her to his side and wrapped his fingers in her hair close to her scalp, kissing her forehead. He would do whatever he had to, to keep her safe.

  He thought about what Steve had said about wearing himself too thin and making mistakes.

  When it came to Sherry’s safety, mistakes were not an option.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sherry’s eyes popped open and she struggled to remember where she was. The predawn light allowed for just enough visibility to see that she wasn’t in her own bed. And then it all came rushing back to her.

  Her house. The blood.

  At least for the second morning in a row, Sherry wasn’t cold. She knew that was because of the big heater of a man sleeping next to her, arms keeping her tightly held to him even in his sleep. She wanted to ease away from him, make sure she didn’t wake him. But she wanted his warmth more, so she stayed where she was.

  She was never going to forget the sight of all that blood. She had to fight the urge to try to rub it off her fingers again, although she knew there wasn’t any there. It was difficult to keep the panic at bay.

  The rapist had been in her house.

  Yesterday Jon had asked if she’d wanted to go home while he met with the mayor. What if she had done that? Would she have walked in to find the rapist in her house? Had he sat there watching her house, waiting to see if she would come home?

  Would she have opened her door to his knock and been attacked by him, too, like Tina and Jasmine and the other women?

  Would that have been her blood on the bed?

  Even Jon’s warmth wasn’t enough to keep out the chill that ran through her system at that thought.

  She couldn’t stay in the bed any longer. She tried to ease out without waking him, but she’d just barely swung her legs over the side of the bed when his arm reached over and touched her on her hip.

  “Hey.” His voice was husky with sleep. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. He looked tousled but strong and capable. She wanted to ease back onto the bed, into his strength. “I’m not going to freak out or anything. I was just going to take a shower. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

  His hand tightened on her hip, pulling her back toward him.

  There was nothing she wanted more than to do that. To bask in his warmth, to lean on his strength.

  She was ashamed of how she’d reacted last night. Surely Jon hadn’t signed on for mass hysterics when he’d spent one
night with her. She hardly wanted to be around herself this morning. She couldn’t imagine he really wanted to be, either.

  He was a good guy. The type that wouldn’t turn away from a damsel in distress, so to speak, no matter how much he wished she would pull it together.

  So she wasn’t going to let herself lie back down and draw from his strength. She needed to find her own strength.

  She slid so she was just beyond his reach and she could face him. His eyes narrowed as he withdrew his hand, but she ignored that. One thing had really weighed heavily on her mind, something she had to know right away.

  “Did they find the person that blood belonged to? There wasn’t a dead body at my house, was there?” The thought that she might have tripped over a dead body did not help with the staying-calm-and-strong plan.

  “No, as a matter of fact the forensic lab doesn’t think the blood was from anybody being harmed. A blood bank truck was broken into yesterday. Donated blood was stolen.”

  “So no one was hurt?”

  “We don’t know definitely, but we are working based on that assumption as of right now.”

  “Thank God.” She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. The thought that the maniac had killed someone to get her attention had been even more traumatic. The blood had been bad enough.

  “Yes, it was definitely good news.”

  He looked so appealing lying there, arms tucked under his head against the pillow. The bed sheet had fallen low on his hips, revealing his chest and abs. She knew he was wearing shorts, but she also knew it wouldn’t take much to have those off him.

  The desire to crawl to him and kiss her way down that chest and abs—and beyond—was almost overwhelming. But after last night she wasn’t even sure that was what he wanted anymore and could admit to herself that she was too cowardly to try to study his face for fear of what she might find there.

  Not coldness—she knew he wouldn’t be cold or unkind. It wasn’t in his nature. No, she was afraid that if she looked in his eyes she would find warmth where yesterday there had been heat.

  That he would gladly be her friend but had enough sense to realize he didn’t really want the emotional messiness that would come along with continuing to be romantically involved with her.